


a couple of sailors who will never lose their sea legs

by malevon



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malevon/pseuds/malevon
Summary: He’d lost his cause deep under the waves.——in which a shipwreck separates the two.





	a couple of sailors who will never lose their sea legs

'This town is drab' seemed to be the only thing coming to Kharis's mind currently.

He forced himself to recant. It felt wrong to think that way, especially when this place seemed to bear so many uncanny similarities to his own hometown. It was a port town driven by traveling merchants, just as his own, but the sheer cliffs and rocky shores were a stark contrast from the friendly beaches from his memories. The place seemed to be caught in a perpetual fog, but in the middle of the day, the sun bravely peeked through, allowing warmth to seep into the cobblestone pathways that lined the town square where he was now. Not so drab, now that he really thought about it.

He wondered how many times she'd walked these same streets.

He had little in the way of money, determined not to carry more on him than he needed, but the call of a Vridelan bakery was too much to resist. He'd definitely gone softer in the years spent with her, he noted with a slight quirk on his mouth. He savored the sights and scents of the place, taking a deep breath as he walked in, the door chiming a bell. He realized suddenly how very out of place he looked, tall and lanky and dark skinned and unarguably Taylvish, but no one seemed any more interested in him than they were anyone else. The sense of anonymity was unfamiliar to him. No one would know him, not this far out from his guild, not this far away from his home.

The kind-looking old halfling woman behind the counter barely even spared him a second glance as she took his coins from his much-larger hand. Instead, Kharis was greeted with inquiries about his travels, what brought him to the town. He answered with something along the lines of "visiting someone", and she sent him off with a wave.

His bags stuffed with wrapped rolls, Kharis walked back into the square, unconsciously looking beyond the developed shopping areas and merchant allies and scanning the outskirts of town. Her description was fuzzy in his mind. It was a lonely house overlooking the sea, but that was all Kharis remembered. The thought of going out of his way to look for it almost felt invasive, even if he knew that the house was completely abandoned at this point. 

Instead, he strolled deeper into the square and took a moment to take in the bustling scenery around him: a fountain lined with the Vridelan emblem, children running circles around it or throwing coins into the water (he couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever come in the middle of the night and fished a handful out; it only seemed characteristic of her), merchants advertising wares, customers flitting from stall to booth to shop. It all seemed like so much. He couldn't tell if his hometown had been this overwhelming, or if he was just that out of touch with it. He never thought he'd have the feeling of missing being on the open sea.

He needed to find that house.

Kharis slipped into one of the side alleys, instinctually hovering a hand over the hilt of his dagger. He'd endured too many alley fights, but something about the air of this town felt lighter, safer for him. He couldn't tell if that was welcoming or a sign that things were going to go very wrong very fast.

Where he emerged, the merchant district was thinning; grass peeked out through the stone, and he could see the packed dirt path a few steps away. He could hear the crash of the sea, smell the too-familiar salt on the wind. Kharis ignored the lump in his throat and headed towards it, more confidence in his steps now than there had been since he entered town. 

The dirt path, lined with unlit lantern posts, seemed to wrap all the way around town, from what Kharis could tell. Not far from where the dirt turned to stone was a fork in the road, and his limited knowledge of Vridelan could only help him infer that the sign indicated that the fork lead to the residential areas. He sure hoped it did, Kharis thought as he turned, now intensely searching for the area that matched her description. The closer he got to the sea, the more surety he felt, a feeling that he was close. 

The ground began to slope upwards. A good sign, then. A knot tied itself deep in his chest, a feeling he hadn't let himself feel in weeks. He was oddly nervous to see the house that had raised her, to stand at the doorway she'd walked out of for the last time many years ago.

One house, Kharis noted, was set apart from most of the others. He could barely see it through the dense forestry that made a natural barrier separating it from the rest of the residential area, but what he could see was defining: a worn down old house, sitting on the end of the cliff. His breath caught in his throat as he starting pushing his way through brambles and brush, and he wondered why he even wanted to see it so badly. Pay his respects, maybe? That seemed like an odd way to put it, but it was the only thing that could describe the sense of responsibility he had towards this old home.

He stared at it when he approached, scanned its worn boards, glanced up at the rusted weathervane that made a painful creaking noise when the wind blew the wrong way. The shutters on the only window he could see had long fallen off, and, given that he couldn't see them in the immediate vicinity, probably had been gone for a very long time.

The door was cracked open. Kharis could see slightly into the house, but it felt intrusive to look, as if he was waiting for an invitation that would never come. He averted his eyes from the threshold, instead training his gaze on the stairway that led up to it, the steps caved in the middle from years of use.

"Uh," he started, and quickly shut his mouth, because, damn, he was about to talk to a house. He couldn't stop himself.

"I don't, uh, know exactly how long she's been away, but if it means anything at all, I--" Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. "I think she turned out okay." 

The house, of course, had nothing to offer him in this vulnerable state of his. Kharis drew in a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that threatened his vision. It had been so long, it felt. He should be over this by now. The time spent with her was so fleeting, it felt like it went by in the blink of an eye; if it felt so minuscule, why did it still affect him? Why couldn't he move on?

By now, he should have gone back to the guild. His only earnings were from odd jobs around Vridel and Firsande, mostly, as he couldn't even bring himself back to Taylvin without feeling obligated to go back to his cause. The guild wasn't his cause anymore, though, he ratified as he backpedaled his train of thought--he'd lost his cause deep under the waves.

He'd never sail again, he didn't think. 

He gave the house one more glance. He didn't have much else to offer it, nothing to remember her by, so he simply nodded and turned away, planning out where he'd go next, but his path was obstructed by someone coming up the hill, facing him and looking skeptical.

 _This again,_ thought Kharis, shaking his head. _She's not real, she's_ not real--

In a breathless moment, the two of them locked eyes, taking in every detail of each other that had changed in the past several moons. Maryn Fulton carried herself more loosely, it seemed, but at the same time she somehow looked tightened, bound by invisible knots that Kharis could tell had already started loosening in the seconds she'd registered his presence. 

Her bags, full of fresh food, dropped to the ground, scattering fruits and bread among other things. Kharis's eyes darted to the sudden movement, and he was scared to look back at her, scared that she'd vanish like all the other times he could have sworn he saw her as a face in the crowd. But when he looked back into her bewildered amber eyes, she was still there, tentatively walking up to him as if she was scared he'd vanish, too. Her face, though taut with emotion, hadn't changed a bit--it hadn't really been all that long since he'd last saw her, Kharis reminded himself, but it felt like eternity--there were still the heavy dustings of freckles on either of her cheeks, the slight, almost imperceptible ghost of a dimple on one corner of her parted lips, the small scars and nicks all along her jaw and around her face; she was still the same, but Kharis could tell something had changed within her since the last time they were in that damned ship together. 

He hadn't moved. Neither had spoken. How was one supposed to react to this type of situation? She was approaching him slowly but it felt all too fast--he felt like he should react soon lest he keep standing there like an idiot.

Her face, strangely unreadable, broke into a shining grin when Kharis awkwardly raised a hand and waved. Maryn's slow approach broke into a run up the hill, barreling into his chest, and all the ghost pains that occasionally ailed him as a result of the wreck dissipated, all the uncertainty left the two. Her hair, loosed and lacking a feather, blew into his face as Kharis rested his cheek on her head, arms instinctively wrapping around the girl whose arms were locked around his neck. His fingertips grew cold, but Kharis willed the anxiety back, chanting a fierce mantra in his head of _she's here, she's here, she's here_.

"Hey," she sputtered out around a sob and a laugh. She was crying, Kharis realized, but he couldn't say anything different of himself. 

"That's all you have to say? 'Hey'?" Kharis laughed back at her, burying a hand in her hair, his mind racing, thinking about the way she still smelled of the ocean though he knew there was no way she'd have been on sea again. Not since then.

Maryn pulled back, keeping her arms loosely around his neck, the glittering grin still on her lips. She took a deep breath, her eyes flitting around his features. Kharis could see the gears turning in her head, giving a warm smile as he waited for whatever snarky remark she was preparing. "You're still cold. You're still lanky and sharp and you're already getting on my nerves and it's only been about a minute," she listed, all through tears and reverent eyes and a smile. Kharis pulled her back into him, and she laughed again, taking one hand from around his neck and wiping her tears. "Is that better, Crowe?"

"I love you," he said, muffled into the crook of her neck. If she reacted, Kharis didn't feel it, but a moment later, he felt her squeeze a little tighter. That was everything Kharis needed.

~

"So," Maryn started, bumping her elbow into Kharis's forearm. They'd moved to a grassy spot behind the house where Maryn now resided, he had found out, near the edge of the cliff. They'd started catching up, sitting close enough to each other so that they were always touching, watching the waves roll off the rocks at the bottom of the lethal fall below. "What have you been up to?"

"Traveling, mostly," Kharis answered. When she didn't press further, he pressed on, instead. "I never went back to the guild. Had a pretty close encounter with some old coworkers who wanted my head on a pike." It was meant to be a lighthearted comment, but Maryn tensed beside him, and Kharis quickly had to ratify the statement. "But it was fine. Got out with every hair on my head."

"And how did you manage that without my help? Seems fake."

"Normal fights I can do. Bar fights, not so much."

"It's gotten longer."

"What?"

"Your hair, I mean."

Kharis compulsively ran a hand through it, feeling the soft strands where it used to be cropped short. "Yeah. Kind of fell behind on that whole deal after..."

"Yeah."

They lapsed into silence. It happened every time the conversation went back to the wreck; they danced around the topic, trying the avoid the discussion, but it pulled their interactions back to itself like gravity. They'd try again.

"Where have you been?" Kharis asked, bumping her with his elbow like she had done to him. She sighed, giving a slight, wistful smile.

"Here."

Kharis nodded, waiting a moment before she went on.

"I... ended up somewhere near here. Little town without even a name. Once I was--" she cleared her throat. Kharis's heart thudded every time she mentioned anything about the wreck. She seemed to be shrinking in on herself, bringing her knees up to her chin. "Once I was well enough I came back here. I've been living in my old house. Haven't found the heart fix it all up yet."

"So you've just been _living_ in there? With it looking like that?"

"Watch your tongue, Crowe, that's my childhood home," she said, a little of her ordinary demeanor returning as she feigned offense. "No, I have proper sleeping arrangements. New blankets and such. Just... no heating, no lights. Gets real cold at night, like the ship did."

Another lapse in the conversation. Their previous banter was gone, at least for the time being. The silence was killing him.

"Were you okay?" Kharis asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew she didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to, either. They needed to, or else it would fester, wear away at whatever was left of them.

Maryn snorted. "Lots of bruises. I couldn't move for a solid moon."

"Damn."

"Broken ribs. Cuts. I imagine you were the same."

"Yeah. I was out for a solid three days."

"You were always a heavy sleeper."

"That's one way to look at it."

Lapse.

"Where did you end up?" Maryn asked. There. She was talking about it, that was good. He'd indulge her.

"Small town near the Taylvin-Firsande border. Like I said, I was out for three days, but I was moving sooner than you were."

"That's good. I'm glad." She seemed genuinely relieved, a relaxed energy slowly making its way over the two again. He missed this.

"Sore as hell, though. Not as good."

Maryn huffed a laugh through her nose, then fell silent. There was another lapse, but Kharis was satisfied with this one; he didn't feel as incredibly uncomfortable with it, now that they'd shoved most of the painful stuff out of the way, he had thought, until he felt Maryn shaking next to him, and when he looked over he saw her face buried in her knees. Her hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, gripping it as if it were her only lifeline. 

"I thought I killed you," she sniffled, her voice trembling. If Kharis's heart broke for her just a minute ago, it was shattered now, torn into tatters. "I couldn't keep control of it, it--it never should have happened. I thought you were dead and it was my fault for not--"

"Mar--"

"Don't _do_ that!" she snipped, raising her head up to show bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks. When she spoke again, it was quieter, and her grip on his wrist loosened, then vanished, and they weren't touching at all. "Don't try to deny that it wasn't at least partially my fault."

"Maryn, you couldn't have known. You couldn't have seen--"

"But I _felt_. 'A ship is an extension of the captain,' my dad used to say, you know? I felt it, and I couldn't control it, and if I couldn't control a lump of wood, then..." She trailed off, her eyes drifting from Kharis's to the ground to the sea. He wondered if she'd ever find a way back out there. Tears still came from her eyes, falling from her jaw to her knees, forgotten. She laughed, oddly, a pained noise that sounded less like a laugh and more like another sob. "This whole time, I thought I'd killed you, Kharis, and now you're here and I'm a blubbering mess."

Lapse.

Kharis looped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back in closer to him after she'd moved slightly away. When she put her head on his shoulder, he spoke again. He wanted to drop this subject, he never wanted to talk about it again. "Not once did I ever put the blame on you."

"Who did you blame, then? Yourself?"

"No one."

Lapse.

~

Kharis helped her with the supplies she'd dropped in shock. Some things already had ants on them, or were covered in the loose dirt that layered over the path, and Maryn ended up just throwing them in the woods. It was such a simple act, but it may have been the simplicity of it that made Kharis wholeheartedly laugh, something he hadn't done in a long time.

She showed him into her home, or, rather, what was left of it. The sight of it made something in Kharis's chest pang--maybe it was the fully equipped kitchen, dirty but functional, or maybe it was the stark contrast of color of Maryn's new blankets against the old grays and browns of the room she slept in.

For a long while--until sunset, even--they sat at the rickety table next to the window that overlooked the sea. Maryn's eyes often subconsciously drifted towards the blue expanse, and each time, it made Kharis frown. For hours they sat and caught up with each other, this time, without the tears, without the messy emotions that had been resolved, for the most part. A good majority of the conversation was a light banter that showed not a bit of awkwardness between the two. Everything felt normal, but Kharis felt that with Maryn around again, the ground beneath his feet should be swaying, there should be no sound but the one of waves hitting a hull and the sound of her voice ringing across the deck. It was too quiet. What a pair they made, Kharis thought with a slight quirk of his lips--just a pair of landlocked sailors who would always have a case of sea legs.

Kharis huffed when they reached a break in the conversation, standing. "I should go. Get some sleeping arrangements together, I mean." Maryn tilted her head at this, and Kharis could see the gears turning. "There's an inn near the square, right? I suppose I'll be staying here a few more days than I'd planned."

As Kharis turned to go, with one hand on the doorknob, Maryn stood up behind him and caught his wrist again, like she'd done earlier. His skin still buzzed from where she'd gripped it. 

"Stay," she said, looking him in the eyes, burning holes into them. "Here, I mean."

Kharis turned the thought over in his mind. He could respond just as heartfelt as she'd, or he could--

"You'll have to find somewhere for yourself to sleep, Mar, because there's no way I'm hauling my ass up into that tiny crawlspace up there." She snorted at this, letting go of his wrist and running her fingers through her bangs. 

"I have some extra old blankets you could use. Are you still a stubborn jerk about your body temperature?"

"Not _that_ much has changed," Kharis half-smiled, and she looked away and half-laughed. Half-everything, it felt, but it was slowly getting filled again. "I'd love to stay here, if that's okay."

"I'm the one who asked you to stay, you doofus."

"Fair point."

Maryn sighed through her nose, looking up at him again with big, earnest eyes, leaving him wondering where that sly spark went after these months, the light that showed all of the plans jumbled around in her mind. She'd had everything ripped from her, forcing her to return back to the house that she felt didn't want her. Kharis was simply a piece of the normalcy, a piece returned to her, and he couldn't be happier to be just that. 

She looked at him for a long moment, her face only illuminated by the dying sunlight vanishing behind the horizon and the small candles and lanterns they'd lit to keep themselves out of the dark. "What?" Kharis eventually said around a smile, breaking her out of her apparent reverie.

She paused for yet another heartbeat before responding, looking down to catch both of his hands in hers before looking back up. "I'm just glad you're home."

Kharis smiled then, a real smile, full, not half. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> somehow i have like 25 writings about these two but only this one is finished so this is the one that gets posted


End file.
